


Cherry

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6820147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For @hux-capacitor, who drew the wonderful fanart. And who demanded I write this. I have no excuse.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Cherry

**Author's Note:**

> For @hux-capacitor, who drew the wonderful fanart. And who demanded I write this. I have no excuse.

It wasn’t not so bad, after a while. He didn’t expect it to be earth-shattering, not his first time. First _real_ time. A few crossed-wrists in the shadow of a speederbike on Tatooine didn’t count. Luke had loved Biggs, but it hadn’t been - you know - they hadn’t _been in_ love. And Luke had been holding out for that, hoping he’d find the right person (he didn’t know for certain what kind of person), and that he’d be happy.

Of course, his daydreams had always been finding that person out in the starry skies, but he’d never in a million years dreamed he’d be here, now. He’d kissed his sister, realised the guy he thought was pretty hot wanted to _make out with her_ and not him, and then even his old mentor friend, the first one to think of him as _special_ \- well. His father had murdered him. 

Luke Skywalker was not having the best of lives. He didn’t even have the same number of hands that he’d been born with. He was the last Jedi of a new Order that comprised him, his sister and the ghosts of his old mentor friend and the other mentor who resented even talking to him. His father was the scourge of the galaxy, and he was a hero to the Rebellion and still he couldn’t get laid.

You’d think being an ace pilot would suddenly have enough cachet to have hoards of admirers banging on his door. Nope. Not one. And although he briefly considered trying to flirt with people _himself_ , he’d been told in no uncertain terms by Mentor # 2 that ‘Attachments were bad’, and so his narrative about going to space to be a hero and find love was only half possible, and being a hero wasn’t even that much fun when you had horrific incestuous trauma, suffered painful limb-loss, and had to spend your time with an astromech as your only real friend, because everyone else _had someone_. Worse, Han had **two**.

Which was why he’d gone to this seedy cantina in the first place. Bad drinks, worse music, floor so sticky it could probably trap a Bantha, and grubby people with grubby hands.

He might not be able to find love, but he could at least see to a few urges. That was fine, right? After all, he was pretty sure Darth Vader didn’t turn evil the minute he did the horizontal tango with his long-dead mother, although maybe he should have asked Ben or Yoda that before he’d got summarily wasted. Whoops. (Ben would give a non-answer, Yoda would likely tell him to ‘in his pants, keep it’, and so ignorance was a good defence in this situation.)

He’d gotten himself squinty to the point of needing to really work at it to make out features (sure he could undo the effects of the alcohol at a moment’s notice with the Force), and smiled and spoke lowly with whoever came close enough.

At the end of the bar was one gentleman who stood out. He was Human, pale and severe. His face was a collection of stark, bold lines joined together with the faintest of care. There was such a deep wealth of experience there, in his eyes. He held himself smartly, and his starched-high collar left everything to the imagination. He was almost military in bearing, and in a way he reminded Luke of Ben. They had to be of similar ages, and he wondered what wars this man had seen.

He found the man looking at him, and he couldn’t look away. Eyes that were piercing in the truest sense, a mouth that was a thin gash drawn through his face, almost lipless and expressionless. No… there was an expression. It was just subtle, hard to read. Luke reached out through the Force, feeling a singular purpose and intensity, a longing sent in his direction. Not a messy longing, though. It was more the certainty of a man who knew what he wanted, and expected to get it. It was… magnetic, almost.

Forcing his eyes away, he swirled his drink a few times, the gaze still on him heavy and sure. 

Well. Luke hadn’t planned on his one night stand to finally pop his cherry being old enough to be his father, but at least he knew it wasn’t him, right? Hah. Okay. Bad joke. If nothing else, someone so advanced in years who was cruising for a quick lay would be sensible and unemotional about it, no attachments, and he could benefit from his experience. Medical wonders had progressed a damn sight, so he’d almost certainly be able to perform. Maybe better than a hair-trigger youth. 

So. Why the Force not? The drink went down, and he went over to the man.

A few unspoken words in their eyes, and then the voice said: “Come with me.”

Clipped, Coruscanti tones. Like Ben. Weirdly, it made him shiver.

***

In the room, Luke was surprised when the other man started to undress first. No pre-amble, no anything. He paused and watched as the older man pulled button after button open. As expected, he wore a thin undershirt below, clean white and maybe even pressed before wearing. An elasticated-Y that held his pants up, pushed down to fall around his hips. 

“We do not kiss,” said the man. “And I will use a barrier.”  


“Okay.”  


“It generally is productive if both of us are undressed.”  


Luke smiled, and shrugged. He was already committed, and now he was curious, so he would play along. Off came his jacket, shirt, belt, pants, boots, socks. He’d stuffed his saber-hilt into the inside pocket of his nerf-leather jacket, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He looped his holster-belt with blaster over the back of one chair, and when he looked back at his bedmate, he was dressed…

Well. He kept the undershirt on. His skin was similarly pale below, but he looked wiry and strong, in a rough-leather kind of way. He had the overall impression of an old blaster, deadly and with all the excess of youth worn off to leave only the functional parts below. A tuft of white hair above the neck of the shirt was the only evidence of humanity, and his socks were pulled up high. He wore tight, white briefs and he looked to be relatively… endowed? Luke had little real experience in that, other than glances in public ‘freshers. 

The man sat on the bed, and he sighted down his nose like it was a sniper rifle bore. “This is your first time?”

Luke nodded, sheepishly. “Is it a problem?”

“You will simply require more preparation. I do not ‘bottom’. You will come here.” A nod, and Luke surmised he meant to his lap.  


The Jedi moved as asked, and his cock wavered to a little more attention. It was more the idea of the focus and skill, rather than the person doing it. Luke had his physical and emotional preferences in people, but if it was just about animal lust, then it didn’t matter. He braced himself over the male’s lap, and was pleasantly surprised by the cold, damp feeling on his fingertips.

Oh, right. Lube. Needed, if he was going to be fucked for the first time. He parted his legs against his better nature, and felt sure, thin fingers slide efficiently between his thighs. He bit his lip and balled his hands into fists, then focussed on the _room_ to relax himself. Felt the geometric shapes around him, the distant sensations of other occupants of the cantina… the sharp, keen edge in the galaxy that was the man fingering his ass. Weird. It felt good, and Luke concentrated on that, concentrated on the flickers of warmth that made his whole lower region heat. His naked cock was trapped between two lean thighs, and he hissed in a breath at the first penetration.

His partner was careful, he could give him that. It didn’t hurt, and he found himself rocking into the touch, demanding more. The finger slid in and out, in and out… and then there were two, and it was _so so so_ wide, like he wasn’t sure his body could part that much, but obviously it could. Another hand pressed onto the nape of his neck, and he didn’t resist as he was held in place and finger-fucked wider. 

Two. Then three. His teeth were jangling like electric mint, his gut clenching like he’d eaten something spicy, and he just wanted to feel it for real. He hadn’t come to the room with an expectation of a specific act, but it made sense that he’d be the receiving party. He had no experience and would likely ruin things if he tried to top, and whilst his hands and mouth were both game (and also, the man’s hands and mouth sounded fun, too), this was pretty much the best possible outcome for Luke. No strings attached, a good, intelligent fucking and then back to saving the galaxy. 

The fingers came out, and Mr Socks swirled them inside before saying: “Up. Over the edge of the bed. Legs apart, ass up.”

He almost demanded a _Sir, yes, Sir_  with his tone. Luke just complied instead.

He heard the sound of a condom being opened and applied, and he was grateful for that, too. After all, if the man was a frequent patron of these places, who knew what he could carry if he didn’t take precautions? There was more lube, and then Luke grabbed the sheets because the man was sliding into him, at long last. 

And yeah, okay, so he’d shoved a few fingers of his own up there over the years (he would swear more guys did that than admitted to it), but even that didn’t prepare him for the warm, snug feeling. He took a moment to revel in it before nodding, and to his surprise the man above him moved. Fast.

Okay, to begin with it was just relatively average (?) speed, but he picked up the pace surprisingly rapidly. Luke found himself gasping into the bedding, legs shaking, enjoying the thorough use. For all he was older, he was still damn **spry** , and he took Luke with a sharp, clear intent that bore down on him through the Force. Luke squirmed and twisted and tilted until he was panting, hand trying to find his cock to stroke it. He got nowhere, because both his hands were brought up into the small of his back. Held together with one palm, he felt the promise and the threat in one, and he moaned louder at the sensation of being trapped. 

He could get out, of course he could. Wasn’t the point, and the other man didn’t know, either. Quite aside from his age, he had the Force, and that made him formidable. He tried to tilt his hips a little more, then was annoyed when the fucking stopped.

Had he… had the man come? Luke craned a look over his shoulder, frustrated. He was rewarded by a look of hunger on that hawklike face, then at the finger-snap he crawled up onto the bed. “How do you want me?”

“Lie on your back. You look limber enough.”  


Luke was. Luke was definitely limber enough to bend his knees as pushed. It made for a whole new angle, and he was surprised when - just after being re-impaled - the man rolled another condom out, this time on his dick. He didn’t expect to penetrate him at all, but then a moment later he realised you didn’t have to necessarily penetrate to release harmful organisms in your bodily fluids. He didn’t object when cuffs sealed his wrists up and around the head of the bed, though they were more than maybe he should have consented to. His partner obviously was sensible, from the condoms and lube, so he figured what the hell and took the hammering.

In and in and against that place inside, making him yelp and see hyperspace. His partner held his legs in place and then finished (or likely, from the grunt and sudden stillness) waiting a moment before grabbing Luke’s wrapped dick and stroking him to completion. It was wonderful because it was someone else, and wonderful because his ass and thighs still throbbed, and he could feel the cock nestled inside of him. He tensed around it, sighing when it withdrew, legs falling back to the bed. The condom was sticky around him, and he couldn’t wait for it to be taken off. 

The man got up, and walked over to where his shirt was sitting. He pressed a small comm unit into his palm, saying: “You will kindly come to my co-ordinates, at once.” 

Luke squirmed. “You… want to let me out, maybe?”

“No, I don’t think I do.”  


A sigh. “I would rather you let me out than the alternative.”

“If you think your Mind Tricks will work on me, boy…”  


Luke’s head snapped around. So he knew? He knew who he was? Why did he go to such an effort - well, not very much of an effort, considering how rapidly Luke had dropped all his clothes - just to… what? Clap him in cuffs? 

Even so, he tried to bear into the mind, tried to fight his way in, and then there was a sudden presence - a… _malevolence_. He jumped harder, and fought to pull his wrists free.

“Please, do relax. You’re not getting anywhere.”  


“ _No_.”  


A blanket was thrown over his lap, and the man in the socks re-dressed himself. By the time the door opened, he was back to his normal self.

Luke was not. Luke wanted the bed to swallow him up.

“Darth Vader,” the man said, inclining his head to the new arrival.  


“Grand Moff Tarkin.” The other man’s voice was impossible to read, through all that interference.   


“I have your son as requested. Do with him as you see fit.”  


The Jedi cringed. He was sure his father could smell the reek of sex on him, and he was undressed and cuffed to the bed. It was _obvious_ what had been happening, and he was just so ashamed that he realised his embarrassment had knocked all self-preservation instinct from him. He could have escaped earlier, but now he had little to no choice.

“Luke. Join me,” Vader said, hand out towards him.  


Luke’s own were cuffed. “Was this your plan, too?”

Darth Vader didn’t answer. 

**Author's Note:**

> The art in question:


End file.
